Rolling In the Deep
by Feygan
Summary: The Basilica crashes on a primitive world. Riddick and his crew have to deal with the consequences, as well as the greedy hands of the natives.
1. Chapter 1

..._they say most of your brain shuts down in cryosleep. All but the primitive side-the animal side_...

To be caught in the moment, helpless, it was infuriating. But all he could do was ride it out.

Darkness, pulsing and strong. Pressure pushing down on his optic nerves until flares of brilliant color were bursting behind his eyes.

The ship was crashing -

..._you never forget that sensation of weightless tumbling while metal screams and bends around you_...

- and all he felt was weary amusement.

Been there. Done that. He'd always been the one to walk away.

Solid impact. He felt it ripple through him and out. Dim echo of ship's alarms wailing.

"**Warning. Hull breech. Warning. Left quadrant flooding with salt water. Warning. Hull breech. Warning**."

Nonsense babble considering the crew was tucked away in their cryo-lockers, unable to respond.

But he heard it. He listened.

And in his mind, the animal laughed.

What a world.

* . * . *

The Kaiju were a menace, one that kept growing stronger with every victory. It was to the point that scientists were predicting the death of all native life on Earth.

The world was becoming a Kaiju paradise and it was taking a toll on everybody.

Dumping the Jaeger program so publicly had not been a good idea. It had been the slamming of a door that never should have been fully closed. But the UN was full of hurt feelings and the American representative had reacted like the asshole he was. Typical politician, willing to let the world burn just to get a point across.

There was a struggle happening to save the human race, yet even now some people refused to take the threat seriously.

Safe far inland, living in their armored bunkers and underground palaces, they sneered at the idea of spending money to save all life on Earth. It was better to wait until things reached catastrophic levels before reacting like fools.

Discard the one thing that had worked so far. Then build a wall. Let the Jaegers' ranks dwindle until they were useless. Sell the program.

And why?

All for the sake of a dream dredged up from the depths of the ocean, the Genie's Lamp. A spaceship.

The ship had broken into pieces, not that they'd realized it when the first section was found. It had been large enough they'd assumed it was most of the ship. And they'd found the crew.

Dead of course, their strange floating beds unable to stand the pressure of the crash and impact with the water.

The coffin-beds had cracked and the occupants had died. There was nothing anyone could do for them.

But the technology... it revolutionized everything. It breathed hope into people that were lacking it.

The first bit of wreckage had been discovered a month after Trespasser had torn up a large chunk of the western seaboard. It was found by a salvage company and quickly confiscated by the government.

An alien ship filled with all kinds of technological marvels. Including what was to become Drift technology.

The propaganda story was a lie, or at least a stretch of the truth. Scientists were working on Pons technology, but it wasn't going anywhere. Until they got a look at the strange apparatus joining the minds of the aliens together.

Even damaged and lacking in some components, scientists were able to reverse-engineer the technology. Drifting was successfully achieved.

The Jaegers were born. They did their duty. They saved lives and defended the coasts. The Jaeger pilots were heroes, their sacrifice one to be recognized, but the cost of giant fighting robots was astronomical.

And with the discovery of the Genie's Lamp... the Jaegers died.

Because the section of alien spaceship they'd found was the size of a small city. Massive to the point that there was serious consternation that it hadn't been found before.

Using Jaeger tech, the ship was tugged close enough to shore that a pier could be built and scientists could find their way inside.

Indescribable wonders were found amongst the grim gold panoply. The spaceship must have belonged to a warrior race, because there was a treasure trove of weapons. Things that could do damage on a planetary scale.

Humanity had the means by which to fight back. Hopefully without turning the Pacific Ocean into a crater of glass.

Production of the "Big Honking Space Guns" was commenced, not leaving resources for much else.

The wall would give them safety from the Kaiju Blue the ocean was going to be spread with once they started blasting Kaiju into vapor. They might even be able to cultivate fish once they had a clean area of water. The wall would at least give the public time to reach proper shelter.

The spaceship had given them a bounty of hope and devastating weaponry. They had barely broken into the first levels of the Genie's Lamp, and already it had helped save the Earth.

They dug deeper to see what other wonders they could discover.

* . * . *

A cryo-locker had a bit of life to it. As long as it remained undamaged it could maintain its passenger for a little over six months while separated from main power.

And when that time gave up, it blew its hatches and released its passenger. To survive or die, that was up to circumstance.

Six months after the crash, all the seals broke. Everyone that was going to wake up did. The others... They drowned in their sleep, never realizing what had happened.

A mass of crew assembled. Lords and ladies wandered around in a flutter of confusion. The gravity generators were offline. The floor slanted worryingly. People were shouting to be heard, wanting to know what had happened.

"Shut up!"

Instinct had driven them to the throne room. The Riddick was there.

Lord Marshal of the Necromongers, shirtless and with his beasts prowling around his legs. It was not a comforting sight.

But he was their Lord Marshal. He spoke, and they obeyed.

Silence spread. They waited for him to guide them.

.

It amused Riddick every time he saw those Necros bow their stiff necks and submit. He could kill every single one of them, and it was his choice to refrain. They had given themselves to him, and those that had fought had died.

Such was the way of these living undead. They walked around, waiting for him to ghost them, loving the taste of death. It disgusted him nearly as much as it amused him, and sometimes he wondered if they realized what they had brought into their midst. What kind of man he wasn't.

They bowed and worshiped him, turned to him for answers as their precious Lord Marshal.

He sometimes wondered how hard they would fight back if he decided to kill them.

"The Basilica has crash landed on an uncharted world." He stroked his hand over the head of Precious, his favorite hell hound. She made a growling chirrup of pleasure, pressing back against his palm. "Most systems are offline, though at least we've got life support."

He grinned, knowing it looked unpleasant. "Big sections of the ship are flooded. If we can't get things fixed, I hope everyone can swim."

"I've already issued orders to emergency work crews." Commander Siberius Vaako strode into the throne room. He seemed completely unbothered by the wildly tilted floor and his uniform looked as neatly put together as always.

Riddick couldn't help a sense of pleasure when he saw the First of Commanders. "I thought you'd done bought it. Your quarters are in the section that's flooded." Riddick looked around. "Where's your Dame?"

Vaako's lips pulled tight. "Dead. Our quarters are flooded. She drowned before I woke up."

"Pity." Riddick bit back the comment about witches melting in water. He needed Vaako; now wasn't the time to antagonize the man. Never mind that he squirmed so pretty.

"There's a lot of work to do," Riddick said, "and not much time to do it. You handle getting things working in here, Vaako. I'll be taking a squad to see what's happening topside."

"Should you not wait, milord?" A noble in a dragonskin dress asked. Her blond hair was mussed from her hurried escape from her quarters. The lace hem of her dress still dripped water, though her expression was controlled.

Riddick bared his teeth in a smile. "We ain't got much choice. The way we're slanted, we're half outta the water. And I hear rats scratching to get in.

"I don't much plan to let a bunch of scavengers dismantle this ship. Not when it's our only means off this rock."

"We'll get systems back online." Vaako gave a bow of his head. There was a clench to his jaw that suggested he would rather Riddick stay to handle the repairs while he took the scouting squad. But he wouldn't think to question the Lord Marshal in public.

Sometimes it's nice to have a zealot, Riddick mused. "Get this ship able to fly. Rescue those that need rescuing. I'll handle our rat problem."

A chorus of voices responded, "Yes Lord Marshal."

* . * . *

Grief was a strange thing, strong enough to work delicate tendrils of emotion through Vaako's mind. Dulled by Purification, the grief was still there, twined through his chest until his breath caught in a hitching gasp.

His dame had been a contentious bitch and that's what he'd respected most about her. So for her to have died in her sleep ... It was an ignoble death and it bothered him. She'd deserved something better, grander.

He focused his mind on the task at hand. They were to get ship's systems back online, which meant a trip to the auxiliary bridge, as the main bridge was currently flooded with seawater.

If they were lucky, the capsule of the auxiliary bridge would still be intact. Otherwise they'd have to activate the vacuum pumps, which were a bitch to get started.

Just like you, my love, he thought in fondness. Hard to get started, quick to cool, and so full of schemes and secrets that it was hard to breathe around her. His beautiful, deadly wife.

Vaako grit his teeth and led his squad in through the bowels of the ship. It was safer than using the main passages and coming across flooded compartments they would have to work around. The system of tubes was a tight fit, but they'd all trained in crawling and keeping their heads down. The feeling of oxygen deprivation was all psychological, and they were outfitted with rebreathers if it got to be too much.

His kneecaps were grateful for the reinforced knees of his trousers as he shuffled along through the darkness.

There were panting breaths and the jingle of equipment belts from behind him. His soldiers kept the techs moving and Vaako didn't worry about anyone turning back.

They were Necromongers. Fearless and merciless.

_Til Underverse Come_.

* . * . *

Precious stalked in front of the squad with a wary swagger, her sisters clicking along after her, the smallest bringing up the rear with a subvocal growl. The hell hounds understood they were hunting interlopers. They were as territorial as he was.

The emergency lighting was bright enough that he kept his goggles on. He figured they'd be coming across survivors or scavengers with flashlights. All he needed was a bright beam seared straight into his eyes.

Riddick followed Precious up the tilted corridor. The further they went, the more uphill the climb seemed to get. when he paused to listen, he could hear the sound of the rats working to get in. The machine squeal of metal being cut through was a distinctive sound.

His lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl. The idea that his ship was being disassembled by those scavenger rats gave him a desire to start removing heads.

He prowled through the abandoned halls with their cathedral ceilings and flung furniture. He led the way along the winding corridors of the housing quarters, each hatch seamlessly the same with only a number to differentiate them. He could feel the occupants watching him as he passed. Non-essential personal had been confined to quarters and were waiting for orders through their Screens. Their attention fairly hummed against his nerves and he knew they were watching him through their Screens.

How they could let themselves be pushed aside and relegated to spectators in their own lives he couldn't understand. They were putting all their trust in others to keep them safe.

They were sheep. Useful, but sheep nonetheless.

"Move faster," he growled and picked up the pace. Precious smoothly flowed into a trot, sensing they needed more speed.

The rats tearing away at his ship needed to be punished for their trespass. His blood surged at the thought of some bloodshed. There'd been very little challenge to him in recent months.

He needed a good fight.

* . * . *

Once he'd set the crews to getting systems online, Vaako went about riffling through the nav charts. They needed some idea of where they were for when they were capable of blowing off this rock.

He monitored the coms while he worked, organizing his various repair crews. It was probably a task for a lower ranked commander, but he'd assigned them priority tasks and there was no reason to change things now.

It was make work and he needed it. Otherwise he would focus on the death of his dame, of the surprised blankness on her face. He wondered if she'd thought of him while drowning, still sleeping peacefully while she died helplessly in her cryo-locker.

It turned his stomach. Such an inelegant way for her to die. She'd deserved more.

He paused on an unfamiliar nav reading and called up the correlating star chart. He zoomed to have it fill the Screen and hissed a breath between his teeth.

They had somehow deviated from their flight path and entered the Uncharted Territories. They were at the ass end of the universe where only pirates dared to skirt.

Even if they sent out a distress call, the only ones likely to answer were brigands and thieves. It would be better if they repaired the ship themselves-if it were possible. There were very few friends of the Necromongers, and he didn't imagine there would be any in the UT.

They were on their own and he couldn't help wondering where the rest of the fleet was. Here somewhere with them, or well on their way to the Threshold. It was a mystery that bothered him, though there wasn't much he could do until they got the ship to some kind of working order.

One task at a time, he thought.

They would get life support back online, save who they could, repair the ship, then they'd get off this rock and find the fleet. He had to trust that the Lord Marshal would see them through without trying to escape.

Otherwise it was the duty of the First Among Commanders to ensure that the Lord Marshal led the Necromongers to victory, even if he had to personally drag Riddick through the role.

Siberius Vaako took his duties seriously.

* . * . *

Leaving two soldiers to guard the hatch, they'd sealed it behind them and headed toward where the scavengers were cutting their way in from the Antechamber. Riddick could hear the furious sound of machinery working and it drew his lip back from his teeth in a snarl that Precious echoed.

He may not have celebrated his role as Lord Marshal, but that didn't mean anyone was free to take what was his. And the Basilica was his ship. His dangerous deadly toy that he didn't want to share.

"They didn't even say please."

"Milord?"

Riddick gave the pale young soldier a flat look and liked the spark of fear in those eyes. Purification dulled emotions, but didn't quite take them all away. Necromongers still had the capacity to fear. He liked playing with that.

"Come on," he said, waving them onward. The rats were only a few compartments away. It was as good a time as any for a violent confrontation.

Soon even the Necromongers could hear the cutters working. He was amused at the way they snapped to attention.

They were all so eager to serve him, even as the lords and ladies schemed to knock him off his throne. It kept him on edge, right where he needed to be.

He could see the sparks where the cutter was grinding through the wall, creating a large archway. Big enough for all kinds of machinery to squeeze through.

Whoever the rats were, they were intent on stripping the Basilica bare. They hadn't even bothered to check for survivors.

"Lundgren," Riddick growled. The red haired man snapped to attention, his helmeted head turning toward the Lord Marshal. "You cut them down when they come through. No mercy."

"Yes, Lord Marshal. No mercy from the Necromongers," Lundgren said. He was a good soldier. Obedient.

"You, you, you, with me." Riddick jerked his thumb and they followed. "We're using the emergency service hatch. We'll surprise them on the other side.

"Yes, Lord Marshal."

He smirked. They were all good soldiers.

* . * . *

"This is impossible." Vaako sat back hard in his desk chair.

He didn't want to believe, but he'd had his results checked twice.

They had crossed the Threshold.

The Lord Marshal should have taken his shuttle into the abyss, but something had gone wrong. The Basilica had jerked out of parking orbit while they were still preparing for the ceremonial feast. It had been navigated straight into the wormhole.

"And the unworthy all died." He huffed a humorless laugh and dug his fingers into his leg.

He drew in a deep breath and stood. He had a job to do.

The Lord Marshal would protect the ship while Vaako would get it running again. He began issuing commands to his aides and they crafted the orders to be sent out to the lower ranks.

His soldiers were counting on him. He would not fail them.

Vaako vowed to survive this Test and prove that he deserved a place with the Most Holy. Though he was unworthy of the honor, he would not turn away from this challenge. He was Faithful.

The Lord Marshal would serve as an anchor point. He would guide them through this test and carry them to the other side. As long as they believed in him and let him lead them, they would survive.

Vaako chose to believe. He would not allow fear to have a place in his heart. He would perform his duty. He was a Necromonger. He was Faithful.

He curled his fingers into fists and refused to admit that his hands were shaking. It must have been excitement.

* . * . *

The emergency service hatch was a tight squeeze. Riddick couldn't imagine anyone using the claustrophobic little tunnel for anything more than a real emergency. It opened up in a closet-sized cabin with a door lock Riddick had to use his universal override on to release.

Necromongers didn't seem overly concerned with comfort and personal safety.

Precious pressed up against his hand and he scratched her cheek ridges as they waited for the others.

If it had been him alone he would have picked off the rats one by one until there were none left. With his squad of Necros at his beck and call, he figured they could make things a bit more exciting.

"We'll keep some alive," he said. "There's no reason we shouldn't find out all we can about this rock we've landed on. I ain't planning on lingering long, but if they kick up too much of a fuss I might let you convert the locals."

He could practically smell the heightened interest. Necros were always hot to go out Converting, spreading their religion across the universe. He hadn't let them get their jollies off in a while, but he figured they deserved a bit of incentive.

If the rats wanted to play, he figured they should get what they deserved. A bunch of Necros following them home would teach them that finder's keepers didn't apply to anything he claimed as his own. And this ship was his.

Riddick went out first, Precious and the other hellhounds trailing close behind. He could hear the subvocal growl beneath her panting breaths, the anticipation of violence rising.

She was ready to rip someone up. He could relate.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This story is being written in short segments. The first chapter caught things up. From now on I'll update this version with the rest.

* * *

Scouts were bringing in their reports, plugging their scanners into the command computer. Vaako imagined there was a chomping, whirring sound as the data was collected and collated. The blind spots were being filled in and the picture presented wasn't a soothing one. The damage to the ship was worse than they'd thought.

There was a good chance that they were going to be stuck on this planet. The Basilica would be their only resource, the planet destroyers no use when not in space. Small arms would be their best weapon.

Vaako went over the gathered intel and began amending orders. Rescue of survivors, food and supplies, repair of the ship. Those were the priorities of the moment. He would know more once the Lord Marshal returned.

Thoughts of his dame drifted through Vaako's mind. Her cold and reptilian beauty so at odds with her passionate sexuality. As dangerous as she was enthralling, more than anything she'd desired that he be Lord Marshal - physical limitations had kept her from the role, but she'd been prepared to be the right hand of a Lord Marshal.

There were times when Vaako had wondered why she had chosen him. Though he'd quickly risen through the ranks, at the time she'd first set eyes on him he'd been nothing but a soldier. One among ten thousand. Yet upon him she'd laid her favor, cast those dark eyes on him and wrung promises from his flesh. He'd vowed to become worthy of her.

And now I am alone, he thought.

His dame was dead and there was no changing it. He would have to keep moving forward and complete his duties. As long as he didn't stop his forward momentum, the pain - an ache at the heart of him where his human heart used to live - would fade to bearable levels and she would become a regretful memory of someone he had once loved. A few Purifications would clear the haze from his mind and he would be able to continue on his Path.

Things would work themselves out as they were wont to do. And he would serve the Lord Marshal and spread the message of the Necromongers. Their numbers would swell with new converts.

His dame was dead but he was not alone. He would not forget it again.

Vaako huffed in victory when a message popped up at the corner of his screen. Auxiliary internal sensors had been brought online. They were still blind to anything outside of the Basilica, but at least now he would be able to see what was happening with his people.

He hit the sensor icon and multiple feeds opened on the screens arrayed around the room. There were still some blank spots, but he could see the supply hold, the galley, and the living quarters.

With a few simple commands he was pleased to find Riddick and his squad. But what they were doing ... Vaako clenched his hands so hard against the console that he felt his fingers cracking the casing. He forced himself to let go and pushed his worry away.

Riddick was the Lord Marshal. He would do what was best for his people. No matter how seemingly ill-advised.


	3. Chapter 3

Lundgren and his boys hit the rats from the front while Riddick gleefully came at their backs. The smooth slide of a blade through flesh, sharp enough to shave bone, that last whuff of breath or that startled gurgle as the body and soul parted company ... it was beautiful.

His only regret was they didn't put up much of a fight. There were some startled shouts in their backwoods dialect, but it was plain to see they weren't fighters. Just a bunch of scavengers with toolbelts and no weapons. Pathetic.

When it was done and blood was cooling tacky against the decking, Riddick was pleased to see that Lundgren's boys had saved four for questioning.

"You clean up this mess. You guard the corridor." Riddick pointed and Necros moved, quick to do his bidding. He looked to Lundgren. "You take these guys back to Vaako and send me along some more troops." He grinned. "You keep what you kill. It's a lesson these rats are about to learn."

He stalked close to one of the prisoners, liking the fearful roll of the man's eyes. It was all about respect. "You understand me?"

The man gave him back blank incomprehension. Riddick laughed. Looked like some rats were going to be learning the language the hard way.

"This must be the back of beyond if you don't even know Standard. Don't worry, boy, by the time we're done with you, you won't even remember you ever spoke anything else." He nodded at Lundgren. "Convert 'em if you have to. Just get the local language into the translators."

"As you will, sir."

Riddick smiled. "I do."

There was something about being in a brand new playground that made him feel young and excited. There was so much to do and see and kill.

"Come on," he called Precious and her packmates. They took a few more hurried bites out of the bodies, but followed after him, their claws clicking against the decking.

There were more rats to flush out and exterminate. Maybe some of them would be an actual challenge. He could only hope.


	4. Chapter 4

Having watched events play out across the Screens, Vaako had the interrogators prepped and ready to go when their guests arrived. He'd already sent more troops Riddick's way, having learned to lip read years ago.

It felt good to be on top of the Lord Marshal's needs. It was why he was First Among Commanders.

He examined the record of those last few moments before the Basilica had been sucked into the blue planet's gravity well. They'd been stationed close to the Threshold in preparation of launching the Lord Marshal's shuttle. A ship had moved out of position and struck them with a gravity lance. They'd been betrayed.

Anger churned through Vaako as he thought of someone daring to commit such an act of treason.

Challenges were an accepted part of life and a fast track to higher rank. A fight to first blood for lower ranks or a fight to the death for higher ranks, but this was a betrayal of everything the Necromongers stood for.

To interfere with the Lord Marshal's Test was heresy. All those responsible for such treason would be punished for their crimes as befitted anyone that betrayed the ideals of the Necromongers. Vaako would oversee the executions himself.

He saved his findings to a data crystal and tucked it away for further examination. He'd let the Decryption Department handle pulling up the evidence needed. Surely the whole crew wasn't guilty, but if they were they would not be getting away with a plea of ignorance. The Decryptors would break them down and the pieces would be scattered to other ships or sent into the Burn Chambers to have their ashes added back into the dust of the universe. Garbage turned back into something useful, a new sun or a new planet with a population settled for Conversion. It was the kind of beauty Vaako appreciated.

He called on some lesser commanders to maintain the bridge, then made his way to the throne room antechamber, which was currently being set up for a rough prisoner interrogation. The prisoners themselves were huddled together in a corner, the air around them polluted with fear.

Vaako looked to Drommick, who was taking the role of the dead Interrogator. "Make sure you run a base check on them. I don't think they're very hardy and we don't have enough of them to spare to accidental termination."

Drommick grunted acknowledgment. He was a man of few words, though he had a skill with getting answers out of even the most stubborn of detainees. His natural talents had been carefully cultivated by the Interrogator, honed to a powerful force.

Vaako glanced at the prisoners. They did not seem capable of much; there was no fear they would attempt to escape.

Vaako caught the eye of one man - short, thick framed glasses, terrified expression - and felt his lip curl in disgust. Pre-Converts were already weak, but these particular specimens were pathetic.

"I leave them to you," Vaako said. He had other concerns and Drommick was a professional.

He went back to perusing the incoming reports. Large portions of the ship were out of reach. Emergency crews were pumping out the water where they could and disaster workers were evaluating the infrastructure of the ship.

Things did not look good. The damage was worrisome, as the Basilica was the only ship they had available. He wondered if the locals had any ships; he didn't have much hope of it.

Vaako frowned down at his handheld Screen. Their situation was shaping up to be worse than he'd thought.

He flicked his fingers across the Screen, prioritizing repairs and organizing the work crews.

It may have seemed an untenable situation, but he would do everything in his power to bring his people through it. They were Necromongers and they did not surrender.


	5. Chapter 5

The further Riddick went, the more displeased he became. He found himself wanting to echo the hellhounds' growling breaths.

The scavengers had done more damage than he'd expected. Panels were stripped and wires dangled. Gold alloy had been peeled from the walls and furnishings. Cabins had been robbed of their treasures, from cushions to every piece of technology.

Not only had his territory been invaded, the violators had stolen from him. And they had dared to think that what was his was theirs for the taking.

"Move faster," he ordered.

He could hear more of the rats up ahead, industriously stripping the ship of anything they deemed valuable. It was only a matter of time before they realized they had lost contact with their fellows. It might make the fighting better, but Riddick preferred to take them unawares.

For all he knew, there was a whole planet they would have to fight their way through. He didn't have the Necros to spare on playing.

One of Precious' sisters growled warningly and Riddick shifted aside in time to avoid the bullet that would have gone through the left side of his head. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a fierce grin and he turned and flung a knife.

There was a startled yelp and the male soldier ducked behind the gutted remains of a comconsole. Riddick smelled the rich copper of blood, but it had only been a surface wound, just enough to sting and burn.

Precious and her sisters separated and approached the console from both sides. There was a chainsaw growl and a terrified scream. The man leapt over the console and ran straight toward where Riddick had ghosted back into the shadows of a column.

It felt good to punch a blade through the yielding flesh of the man's gut, a finger sliver of room where body armor didn't protect.

There was a shocked indrawn breath, then the vapor of aspirated blood. Riddick stepped back and let the body fall.

"One down ..."

He quickly checked the body, examining the foreign make of the gear. It wouldn't do to find out the primitives had surprises.

A chemical propulsion gun that shot metal bullets. A communicator strapped to a utility belt - a simple four channel radio with a wireless microphone clip and earwig. A tan colored uniform under the armored vest that sported the tags of a foreign military. And in the man's back pocket a wallet with paper currency, plastic cards - one with the man's picture and possibly his address in the local language - and a handful of photographs in plastic sleeves.

Riddick pulled out the picture holder and tossed the rest of the wallet to a nearby Necro. "Get this body to forensics. I want to know everything about the world outside."

"Yes sir."

Riddick grunted, attention caught by the pictures he held. He wasn't interested in the smiling people or the stark infirmary scene of a bald and withered child bravely smiling from a hospice cot. No, he focused on the blue sky, green earth, and the giant robots.

"Huh."


End file.
